


A Bid For Catharsis

by flourishingfixations



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, Death, Emotional, F/M, Monologue, Sadness, graveyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourishingfixations/pseuds/flourishingfixations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot: Mew/Tonio. Tw: Death. “It’s a constant nausea. A sickening plug that blocks your throat and eradicates your ability to breath like a normal human being.” – Angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bid For Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Quick one shot I wrote a while ago. It started of as an exploration into death and suddenly mutated into a vocaloid fanfic. It's told from Mew's perspective.

The burden of losing lovers is often a weight that follows through to the moment you too, return to the soil. Every time your head entwines with the cold of your pillow and darkness seeps through your closed eye lids, their face will always be the first image you see. When you witness them die – that pain is enhanced to point that you find yourself screaming at the slightest mention of their name. The slightest trigger that will drag you back into the memory you try so hard to supress. It’s a constant nausea. A sickening plug that blocks your throat and eradicates your ability to breath like a normal human being. I’ve never left mourning. I’ve never let his face become no more than a nostalgic picture. Pressed between the pages of a vintage album left to collect dust in attic abandoned for several years.

I’ve tried to explain it to Yuki but I only ever find myself lying. Crafting intricate stories about how Tonio is now singing with angels or that he is just sleeping. I’m sure she understands the inevitability of death. Understands that perhaps her father is not coming home. That he will no longer be there to sing her to sleep or tell her that she is the star of this universe.

I visit his grave at least twice a week. There’s never much to say other than that I love him and will continue to do so; even if I will never again be able to press my lips against his or embrace the warmth of his body. The grave yard is a quiet place. A solemn forest of stones planted upon the ground of the dead. It feels cold. As if the reaper herself traces the dying grass and feeds of the tears of those that come to pay respect. Tonio’s grave is by no means the most extravagant I was able to afford. He had always said that he’d like to keep his memory dignified. He had never been one for flashy statements so it only seemed right if I were to get him a simple stone.

Yuki clutches onto my palms, her head pressed against my stomach as if restraining herself from looking upon his grave. “Mummy,” her voice barley makes a sound. Like a child drifting to sleep. “Tell Daddy that I miss him.”

I pause for a moment. Sifting through the chaos of my mind to find the words to say. “Yuki misses you. She thinks about you every day and tells me that soon - she’ll get to hug you again. She wrote you a song the other day -” My voice cracks under the strain of my thoughts. I try to keep my eyes dry, for Yuki’s sake, but in the end – my efforts equate to nothing. The tears shade the whites of my cheeks. Like water colour paint; spreading across the canvas of my face. There’s no catharsis within that release of emotion. Just cramped sadness. Buried within the warm droplets that fight to be freed form my eyes.

“Mummy, don’t cry. Daddy doesn’t like it when you cry.” Yuki’s clutch tightens. She squeezes onto my trembling hands and begins to sing. Echo the song she wrote for him.

_“You’re sleeping now._  
 _Resting beneath the quiet earth._  
 _I’ll always remember you._  
 _Even if the world forgets.”_

Her voice travels the transient melody of her lyrics. She lets go and kneels before his name. Printing her palm against the stone and whispering one final sentence. A promise he repeated to her from the moment her new-born body was wrapped in his arms.

“I promise to always love you. “


End file.
